John Opens the Bottle

“Driving to Blueberry Hill. You sang along to Vogue. Straight men don’t sing along to Vogue.”

“I am straight, Carrot,” I said. “This is not a thing, it is just you.” I wanted Mace to feel special. And, I wanted Mace to be comfortable in what we were doing.

Mace asked me the same question.

“You kept me guessing. I thought maybe right off the bat. But, then there was Ellie, your instinct to sleep on the couch, and your instinct to return to your bed. When you slipped your briefs off with only a little prompting, I thought ‘uh oh, here we go.'”

“Was that the plan?” he asked, putting me on the spot. I let a hint of honesty leak out.

“I am not sure it was a plan. But, I am not sure it was not a plan. I was certainly interested in seeing what would happen, how far it would go before one of us balked.”

“Neither of us has balked yet,” he answered. “And, the next step is a big one.”

I was titillated. We were going to fuck, and it was Mace’s idea.